


Doctor's Orders

by triscuit



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Medical Kink, Sounding, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 03:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2677214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triscuit/pseuds/triscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drift goes in for a long due check-up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor's Orders

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a commission for simonbitdiddle on tumblr!

It was always a challenge to corral Drift into the medical wing. Any time he’d set Drift up with an appointment, he’d find a way to get out of it. Excuses about Rodimus needing his time to consult him in that very moment. As per usual it was always urgent enough to warrant another rescheduling. Just as ratchet expected, every single time Drift had an appointment, Rodimus always needed him by his side.

Ratchet knew it was time to resort to a different tactic. Persistence was key in finally catching Drift in the halls of the Lost Light. Under the pretense of a casual conversation he walked him around to disorient him. Conveniently, they happened to stumble upon the medical wing. "Would you look at that." Ratchet began, looking to Drift with a smile, "Seems like we finally have some time to ourselves. How about we get to that medical appointment of yours?"

For once, Drift didn’t have time to come up with an excuse. His mouth hung open for a few long moments, before his lips eased into a smile. “That’s a wonderful idea, Ratchet.” He placed his hand upon Ratchet’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

He was conceding defeat. Provided he didn’t pull any tricks.

Fear wasn’t the reason for avoiding these appointments, Ratchet was sure of that. Even as Drift hopped up on the medical bed he was nothing but smiles and good wishes. He even set aside his weaponry without a single complaint. Ratchet could feel the force Drift exerted in trying to project what he'd call a pleasant aura. 

“You know Ratchet, this is a bit unnecessary.” Drift’s voice was even and warm, a carefully modulated tone. “I performed my own examination upon my body earlier this week. There’s an exercise that I was taugh-”

“Can it. I’m not sitting through your mystical remedy regimen.” Ratchet’s arm was already extending before he had a moment to think. By the time he realized what he was doing, his palm was mere inches from Drift’s mouth. It must’ve been a new record. He already was trying to manually silence him. Ratchet redirected his aim, grabbing for some tools. “It’s just a standard check up, let’s keep it that way.” 

As Ratchet grabbed for the scanner, he caught the sight of Drift’s frown. Go figure, even Drift couldn't keep up the act of pretending he wasn't annoyed by his examination. 

“Trust me kid, this is going to hurt me more than it’s going to hurt you. Let’s just get this over with and you can be on your way and back to… covering yourself in rocks or whatever it is you do when you get sick.” Ratchet flicked on the diagnostic tool, opening up the scanner. The flash of light came out in a single beam.

Ratchet was deliberate in making his way over Drift’s body. He kept darting his optics back to him, making sure Drift wasn’t shifting around. “Steady. I don’t want to re-start the whole damn thing over again.” Ratchet watched as the beam of light made its way to Drift's hips. 

There was a loud beep. 

Ratchet smacked his hand against the scanner, causing the light to flicker. "Must be some kind of error, this thing always acts up." Again, he scanned over Drift. This time he decided to start from his head down. It was perfectly quiet. He could hear the soft creak of metal as Drift was began to dig his fingers into the table. Even if he couldn't exactly focus on that movement. 

The beeping went off again.

"Come on Drift, stop giving me that look. It's better we just investigate it now. Who knows? It could still be nothing. Ever since First Aid's dropped it the thing's been on the fritz." He grabbed for one of the monitors, pulling out a few wires to hook them up to Drift. It was a formality, just to make sure he was keeping track of his sparkbeat during the procedure, even if it might have been overkill. Then, Ratchet reached under the berth, taking out two metal bars with padding on them. "Up you go." 

Drift's optics were wide as he gawked at Ratchet. He was staring past him with an owlish look on his face. It almost was as if his words weren't even registering. "You heard me, up you go." Ratchet patted at the stirrups for emphasis, trying to offer a reassuring smile to Drift. Judging by the way Drift cringed at him, it wasn't very effective.

Between them there was a few long moments of silence, followed by a sigh. Yet to Ratchet's surprise, Drift finally relented. 

Drift shifted his weight on the berth, his body sliding down the as he was trying to get his legs up. One leg nearly fell out of the stirrup as he just barely managed to get the other in. There was a look of panic that crept over his face for a moment, before he finally gathered his bearings. 

Drift kept his grip on the cool metal berth, steadying himself as he tried to find a comfortable position to rest his hips in. His face scrunched up for a brief moment, as he felt a pinching in his joints. After a few more moments of fuss, he managed to settle down in a semblance of calm. 

Ratchet went to grab for a stool to sit on, before pulling the cart up right next to Drift. "Alright kid, extend your spike. Can't exactly perform an examination if I can't see what I'm working with." It was a routine examination, nothing more. Ratchet had seen his share of patients in his time. This wasn't anything different.

Even if it was Drift.

"A-ah sure." Drift replied, angling his hips in what he felt was a better position. "Just..." He rested his arm over his own face, feeling just how hot it was. Drift tried to keep his gaze focused on the ceiling, trying his best to ignore the loud click of his own interface panel. 

Was it always so quiet in this room? 

"There you go." Ratchet went right to work, inspecting Drift's spike. His mind was taking in any necessary details, ignoring everything else. His fingers easily ran over the length, trying to take in any kind of clue on what might actually be going on with Drift. He was lucky he had experience on his side. Or else he might have found it difficult to focus with the way Drift was struggling with keeping his hips still. 

"Come on, kid. I can't see what I'm doing if you're squirming like that." He rested his hand upon Drift's hip, squeezing it lightly before returning to work. Even with the overwhelming urge to harshly scold Drift, Ratchet knew this wasn't the time or the place. 

There was a long moment of silence as he continued to poke around with some tools. Then, a sudden and very uncomfortable stroke of realization. 

"Scrap, figured as much." Ratchet sighed out. He set his tools aside with a soft clatter. This was going to be much more complicated than he thought.

"What? what did you figure?" Drift spoke, his voice edging with anxiety as he tilted his head to the side. He was trying to look at what Ratchet was grabbing for. 

"There's something screwing up your transfluid systems. It's delicate work to do that kind of maintenance, and there's limited options on how to handle it." He replied, his shoulders slumping, "It's either I use a special tool, or we're going to have to take the whole thing apart. There's no other alternatives to get at it, and I'd rather go for efficiency here." 

Drift swallowed thickly, "What's the tool like? The one that you'd, er... be using to access my... transfluid systems?" He could hear the monitor beeping louder as his spark rate increased. "I just want to know how you'd be... going in there with it. Just some sort of security to know what exactly you'll be doing down there." 

Ratchet merely grabbed Drift's spike with one hand, as he held up the tool with the other. It was made of metal, a long rod with a small bulbous end to it. "Kid. If you want to start asking for second opinions I can call First Aid in here, or we can just get through this. It's not gonna hurt you, it's just a small thin rod. You'll barely feel it." 

From Drift's point of view, he couldn't find himself using the words small or thin to describe anything about that tool. 

"I-I think I understand the situation." Drift spoke up, letting out a weak laugh. "Just, do what you need to do." He waved his hand, trying to maintain that forced smile. Drift could already see Ratchet lubing up whatever that tool was. The thick lubrication coating it only made him realize just how much of a tight fit this might be. At this point, his spark beat even faster. In an attempt to keep calm, Drift merely dimmed his optics. Out of sight, out of mind. 

Meanwhile, Ratchet was just rolling his optics. Drift always had a knack for the dramatics. He continued the careful process of lubing up the tool. With Drift checking out mentally, it at least helped him keep to the task at hand. He focused his optics on Drift's spike, taking in the sight completely. 

Even as he tried to ignore the nagging thought, it only became more obvious. This examination felt different than the others.

Ratchet could feel the heat of Drift's spike under his fingers. In this moment, he realized how painfully unfamiliar this stimulation truly felt. It had been too long since he had last experienced anything like this. He squeezed his hand a little tighter, running his hand up the length. Ratchet was trying his best not to think of how long it had been since he had these feelings bubbling up. He had to keep his mind on task, no matter how much he needed to mentally kick himself. 

Ratchet maneuvered the tool closer to the tip, rubbing the bulbous end against the head of Drift's spike. "Keep steady, you can't be squirming around right now. Got it?" Ratchet could hear a soft whimper escape Drift, before a small reply in confirmation. 

Ratchet began to swirl the bulb over the tip, spreading more of the lubricant around. The spike twitched under his fingers, a bead of transfluid dripping out. It made his face flare up in a new found heat as he had to force himself to suppress a gasp of surprise. 

This really was making him feel painfully young, and painfully foolish. 

Ratchet was shaken from his thoughts as he heard the monitor beeping even faster now. His mind was filled with the overwhelming vision of Drift's soft lips as they parted. A soft intake of his vents as his fingers dug even deeper into the table. That light flush on his cheeks looked absolutely beautiful. 

He needed to focus. With just the right amount of force, Ratchet began to dip the probe inside.

For Drift, it felt completely different than he imagined. The intrusion was difficult at first, the way it spread him open made his body crave the ability to squirm around. Even as his limbs itched with the need to push against him, Drift tried to keep himself in check. He had to stay still. Yet the rod only pushed in deeper, slowly at first. 

The pace was almost intimate as Ratchet pushed on. It was enough to make Drift's cheeks feel as if they were burning up. As he shifted his thighs, Drift felt a hot sticky fluid clinging to them.

It was quite the contrast to the alien sensation of the tool.

The metal rod was cold, making him suck in a harsh breath. There was almost a rhythm to Ratchet's movements. The way the metal rod pushed in just that little bit more, before pulling back almost to the tip. It filled him with the overwhelming sensation of wanting to move his hips into this contact. Drift forced himself to stay still. Even as Ratchet eased the cold rod out of his spike. 

At least he had some sort of reprieve soon enough.

Ratchet was quick as he applied more lubricant to the rod, coating it. He didn't even notice he was taking his time with it. Only when he realized his gaze was fixed on Drift's face did it become obvious just how much he was savoring this deprivation. Ratchet didn't consider himself terribly cruel. He didn't mind giving Drift what he wanted. This was for medical reasons, wasn't it? 

This time, Ratchet didn't hesitate. The movement was fluid as he pushed the metal rod into Drift's spike. He could already hear Drift's squeal of pleasure as he pushed it in almost to the point of his fingers bumping up against Drift's spike. "Easy..." He hummed under his breath, his hand moving lower onto Drift's thigh. 

With just that slightest bit of added pressure with the tool, Ratchet finally hit the spot he was looking for. To his surprise, there wasn't a single abnormality. Everything was in perfect working order, no sort of blockage to be detected. In that moment Ratchet could also see the lubricant pooling around Drift's thighs. The thick fluid making an absolute mess. With Ratchet's own body aching, a realization came to mind. 

It wouldn't hurt to inspect Drift just a bit more. 

He moved his hand down between Drift's legs, carefully opening Drift's interface panel. It was the first time he had ever seen Drift exposed to him like this. His valve looked gorgeous, the soft white lips just lightly flushed and pink. Ratchet couldn't help but think that Drift looked exactly as he imagined he would. "Alright, we're almost done here." Ratchet felt breathless, his own hips shifting on the stool as he squeezed his own thighs together. "Just going to feel from both sides and we'll see if there's any kind of problem." 

Ratchet kept his slow pace, tracing his fingers over his entrance. He carefully dipped his fingers between the lips of Drift's valve, teasing over the outermost sensors. As Ratchet spread two of his fingers, he could feel Drift's body tense up. The heat was overwhelming and tight at first. As he massaged his fingers and eased them deeper, he could hear Drift's sigh of pleasure. All the while, he just kept trying to move the rod at a languid pace, pulling it out before thrusting it in all the way. 

Drift's valve generously lubricated with each of Ratchet's continued affections. The quick movements of his fingers pushing more lubricant out. It was even beginning to soak Ratchet's hand with how much of a mess Drift was making. He only encouraged it more, pushing a few more fingers inside. "You're doing good..." Ratchet hummed, feeling his fingers hit the ceiling of Drift's valve. He could see Drift's hips trembling below him, his body edging closer to overload by the moment. 

Ratchet began to pull his fingers away, spreading them against the sensors as he edged them back out. His thumb began to trace over Drift’s exterior node, rolling over that sensitive part of him. Drift just kept letting out the wonderful little whimpers that he couldn’t help but reward him. Ratchet pressed insistently over that little bundle of nerves. He could even see more of that sweet lubricant began to drip out.

Ratchet leaned down, pressing his lips over Drift's inner thigh. He left a short trail of kisses as he filled Drift with anticipation. Ratchet could even feel his own spark beat fast in his chest as he moved closer to that mess. His face was washed over in an overwhelming heat as he realized how close he was to Drift. 

Without another moment's thought, he brushed his glossa over Drift's valve. The overwhelming sweetness filled his mouth, but he pressed further on, sucking over the soft lips. He felt self-conscious about his movements, knowing inexperience was on his side. 

At least Drift offered Ratchet a reassuring touch, grasping over the crest of his helm. It was tentative at first, just tracing over the tip. Then, Drift began to squeeze it, before abruptly letting go. A movement that was followed by the soft whispers of apologies. 

Ratchet attempted to soothe these anxieties away. 

He traced over Drift's valve a few more times, moaning softly against him. It was that lack of shame that made him realize just how far he had taken this. Ratchet only wanted to take it further. He eased himself away from Drift, using his free hand to rub his thigh. His movements were slow and deliberate as he used his other hand to gently tug at the rod, sliding it out of his spike. Drift let out a gentle gasp, his fingers squeezing tight onto the table. 

Ratchet couldn't help but notice the metal of the rod felt warm under his fingers. It must have been heated up by Drift's body temperature. Ratchet set the tool aside, before taking note of Drift's current state. With Drift's spike free of any intrusion, his hips began to move more freely. Ratchet could see the transfluid that began to generously leak down the length of his spike. He watched as it dripped onto the table. Drift's body was shaking now too from the denial of his overload. The loud exhaling of his vents filling up the room. 

As delicious as this was, Ratchet knew he couldn't deprive a patient in need.

Ratchet pressed his lips over the tip of Drift's spike first. He could taste the transfluid as he began to run his glossa along his length. As he expected it was just as sweet as the lubricant, making him eager for more. He peppered kisses all the way back to the tip of his spike, sucking over the head once more. 

Ratchet teased his lips against Drift just barely allowing him to enter his mouth. His glossa swirled over him as well, pushing at the sensitive tip. He continued these teasing movements, before abruptly popping the spike into his mouth. 

Ratchet was quickly overwhelmed with wrapping his lips around something so thick. His jaw was straining, and he felt that unfamiliarity rushing back. As he tried to adjust, he eased his fingers back into Drift's valve. His thrusts were deeper than before, his fingers moving at a faster pace. Drift's vents generously poured heat over Ratchet, forcing his own vents to kick on full force. 

Ratchet's movements were picking up as he began to bob his head, taking Drift in more. He could feel Drift begin to thrust up into his throat. Ratchet grasped tight onto Drift's hip, forcing him to stay still as his fingers twisted in deeper. He was brushing against each sensor in tandem with the movements of his mouth. His mind was beginning to fog over into a haze, making it difficult for him to even focus. 

Until Drift's hips jerked up abruptly, a loud shout filling Ratchet's audio. 

The spurts of transfluid were thick, filling up his throat. It caused Ratchet to cough out in surprise, the transfluid spurting out of his nose. He was humiliated, his face felt as if it was on fire. The thick gushes of fluid continued to pour down his throat, filling him completely. Ratchet forced himself to keep steady as he tried to swallow what transfluid he could. Even as he pulled away, some of it dribbled out of his mouth. 

"Primus, kid. You really had that stored up, didn't you?" Somehow, he thought Drift would've been the sort to relieve himself much more often. 

Even his fingers were soaked as he moved away from Drift. It was embarrassing just how much of a mess the two of them had made. Ratchet got up from his seat, grabbing for one of the cloths. He made sure to run it under warm water. Anything to keep Drift from complaining. 

As he turned to start cleaning him up, it became clear that there was a reason Drift didn't have a single smart remark for him. 

Drift's optics were dimmed as his engines purred softly. He was down for the count. Ratchet made quick work of cleaning him, careful to not jostle him too much as he wiped up the mess that the both of them had left behind. It was easy to finish Drift up when he was in such a relaxed state, at least.

Ratchet tossed the cloth into the bin, before grabbing another for himself. A quick glance to the clock told him he had to make his own cleaning quick. He had plenty more appointments for the day. Even if he had to fudge some things around to fit Drift in, he had to admit he was pretty satisfied with himself.

"See, kid. That wasn't so bad, was it?"


End file.
